TheWizardLizard

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Free bird, foul word, hit before I hurt. Lying, leering, laughing, looking, let lost lay low.

He hurt her, hurts her, will hurt her. The metal man met his maker.

There were more new people. Greg sighed as he heard their voices join in with the chorus already in his head. Just read the book, he told himself. Don't worry about them, and they won't worry about you.

One of them asked the others a question - how were they? Greg found himself answering before he knew what was happening.

"They are okay. Nervous. That one wishes you wouldn't smoke," he said, pointing to the other reading boy.

Shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have said anything. Now they were going to look at him, try to talk to him. And now they knew he was in their heads. People hated that.

"I, uh... that was, I mean I think, sort of, that... I wasn't supposed to, I didn't, I... should not... have said... that." He was stammering again. Greg pulled the book back over his face, hoping childishly that they'd forget he was there if they couldn't see him.

A memory flashed through his head. Sarah, sitting on his bed. "Promise you'll try to make friends?"

"I promise." He wasn't looking at her, but then, he never was.

"I'm Greg," he said at length. "It's nice to, um, meet you all."

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Hot damn, I just realized, our characters are a bunch of skinny ninnies.

Devon and Kane are the only ones who're, like... healthy.

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

"A life should never be taken lightly," Carver said. The man who had shot one of the enemies earlier was attempting to goad him. Carver wasn't so proud as to start an argument with the survivor - doubtless he was just lashing out thanks to the trauma he'd endured.

The paladin stepped towards the man who'd had the flail. "By the power invested in me by my order and my lady, the sun, I judge you guilty of crimes both numerous and heinous, and sentence you to death. May you find whatever rest you deserve." His piece sad, Carver swung his blade at the man's neck, hoping at least to offer him a quick end.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Not how he wanted me to be, not how I wanted to be free. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I have such trouble standing tall.

It was someone new. Greg peeked up from his position, seated on the roots of a tree with a book held in front of his face. The boy was dropped off in a black sedan and immediately began asking for a light for his cigarette. This bothered two people, the blind boy and another, though the flash of irritation didn't last long enough for him to get a real trace on either of their feelings. For the best.

Dark, stark, leaves a mark. Difficult, dangerous, don't dare dally.

Greg sighed and looked back down to his book, trying his best to ignore the voices as he always did. He wasn't having much success with reading, to be honest - the dark glasses he was wearing made it difficult to discern the words. He hated them, of course, but it couldn't be helped - he couldn't risk anyone making eye contact with him.

The trip had been hellish, of course. He'd taken a plane from Idaho to New York - a four hour flight with a two hour time difference. There were so many people bustling around, going and coming and grieving and fearing and looking at him with hairs standing up on the backs of their necks when he walked past. For the umpteenth time, Greg wondered why his power couldn't have been being invisible.

He hadn't spoken to anyone except his family in... well, a long time, and hadn't exactly traveled in a while. Taking that kind of voyage was a culture shock, even though Sarah had been nice enough to help him get packed and ready to go. Of course, the journey itself wasn't even the worst part.

And now he was going to get on a small bus with a bunch of other teenagers, and go to a school for mutants. Part of him was terrified that he wouldn't fit in, that they wouldn't like him, that he'd be alone again. Part of him was resigned to it.

Pet with pets, exquisite, exotic, kills me when I don't have it.

Greg ground his teeth and looked back to his book. He'd read it plenty of times, but it was one of his favorites, and besides, he'd read practically everything plenty of times by now; he'd had a lot of time for that. Reading.

He'd been turning pages for a while now, but his eyes hadn't been absorbing it. He flipped back to the first page and began again. "One morning, upon awakening from agitated dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself, in his bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin," he whispered to himself.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Oh, by the by, as a function of my character's powers, he's going to be in your heads pretty much constantly. I think I have enough to go on from your sheets for now, but I may PM you if I need more details about your character's angst.

And don't worry, I'm not going to blow anyone's big character reveals or anything, I'll keep it cryptic, and anything really important, I won't post, just sort of nod sagely and say 'I knew about that' when it finally comes out.

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

I'm glad both Alula and Carver have nice lady voices who talk to them.

@Dragonbud

I wonder if Alula's, Carver's, and Furnace's voices ever get together? Have tea, talk about things?

Or maybe it's more like a celestial Superbowl party, and they all go over to one person's house to watch what we're all doing.

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

Carver was somewhere warm, and golden, floating on a sea of soft yellow light. Everything else - the battle, his friends, the chains - it was all outside of this, this beam of sunlight, and everything out there was happening very, very slowly.

"Carver..." The voice came from all around him, soft and musical. It was a woman's voice, one he had only heard a few times before; his vigil, his initiation, and once during his training. It was his lady's voice. The sun's.

And then she was in front of him, radiant and beautiful, golden-haired, kind-faced, clad in robes of billowing white. "My lady!" the paladin gasped, and tried to fall to one knee, but quickly found he couldn't move. He was rising, being lifted from the ground in the pillar of light. A horrid thought struck him. "My lady, am I dead?" The knight did not fear death, but he feared to die with his duty unfulfilled; if he was dead, he could not protect the others.

She laughed, the sound of windchimes on a summer day. "No, brave knight, you have much life left in you." She stroked his helmed cheek with one hand, where the flail had mangled his face. "Oh, Carver, you always did have such faith in people. You deserve to have it rewarded, one of these days."

"I ask for no reward, my lady."

"You never did. Arise, brave knight, and carry on in my name. Carry on the fortitude you have displayed, and I will be gladdened to have such a champion in the dark days to come." She began to fade, all the light around him dimming. Carver turned his head wildly as the world outside began to speed up again.

"My lady! My lady! What is it that I must do?" he called out, desperately.

"Protect them, Carver. The task before them is great, and they will need your strength."

"I will fight to the end, my lady."

"I know, Carver, but that's not what I mean. Arise, your strength restored, and protect them from what's coming. And, let's have rid of those as well - there are enough chains upon you already, my dear knight."

The light was gone. Carver landed on the ground with a soft thud. Separ was saying something to him, asking whether he wanted to fight the man alone. The paladin turned to him and spoke.

"More are coming to kill us, friend - more than we can fight. We must leave and gather the others, go somewhere far from here."

Carver bent and picked up his sword and shield before turning to Bill. "You fight very well - it is a shame that you ended up on the wrong side. However, you cannot be allowed to tell your friends which way we went, and though I'd like to make you swear silence, your word has lost value to me." He gestured his head to Separ. "I am not so proud as to make this take longer than necessary, not when time is of the essence. He'll have to die."

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

Oh. Well. I guess that answers the question of 'is the sun an actual divinity'. :P

And, @Kronshi thank you for the acknowledgement. I'd like to reiterate than I'm not asking for preferential treatment or anything, and I understand that that was a pretty bad engagement for Carver to be in, and he was going to come away at best mangled or maybe not at all without help. It was just that after the third consecutive 'your actions have no effect on Bill. You are hit/wrapped in chains/ fall to the ground, writhing pathetically', it sort of crossed the line in my mind from 'Well, this is a tough fight and I guess I'm having bad luck with the rolls, it's to be expected' to 'My character is being abjectly, utterly humiliated, and anything I do to try and stop it is just going to give Bill another turn to pummel and taunt me'. It was a little... frustrating, but, I understand you're trying to be fair, and I do thank you for your consideration. I've played with a lot of GMs who would have responded to that sort of complaint with 'Oh, yeah? Well, Bill picks you up and pile-drives you. You take 3d10 damage. Roll to see how pathetically you weep for your mother', so... thanks for listening.

I'll get an IC post typed up shortly. Probably time the more lucid members of the party got an escape plan together, Carver's got his smitin' boots on.

Who Wants To Go On An Adventure!!! (FULL)

Okay, this is getting stupid. Is anything I do ever going to have any effect, or are random NPCS going to keep teabagging my character until the end of time because the GM says so?

I don't need to be some kind of all-powerful badass who always wins, but during this fight I have landed one effectual attack, while every round they have injured, hit, evaded, or generally humiliated Carver. I don't want to that whiny 'It's not faiiiir' guy, but... come on.

Like... I don't even want to do anything now. Whatever my next move is, I know the result is going to be 'Bill effortlessly avoids this and taunts Carver's pitiful failure'.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

So, I've got a couple questions on how the RP is gonna work.

Will we start on like, the first day of school, or will it have been going on a little while?

How do the sleeping arrangements work? Do we have roommates, because if so I can see that being hilarious.

Will we be, like, all in all the same classes? Because we are shaping up to be the most problematic class in the history of education. :P